Autumn
by Rafaela LaRocque
Summary: Status and duty, the machinations of mankind, divide them always. Except on the first day of autumn, when time stops and their hearts collide under the arms of the evergreen trees. Oneshot, LxZ


**Autumn**

The moon is large and yellow-white, a beacon of light in a world of shadows. Nocturnal life buzzes and flutters in the woodland and the rich, earthy scent of the Gerudo Desert rides in on the Western wind.

Here, in the last, sultry hours of summer, amid flickering fireflies and shuddering trees, the princess makes her wait.

She is lovelier than the night, cloaked in velvet black, golden hair unbound and spilling across her shoulders. The antique brooch at her throat, a precious golden relic she wears to remind her of days forgotten, glitters in the yellow light.

In her presence, the creatures of the night sing and howl in rare harmony. But for all their effort, she cannot shed her unease.

_He is alive_, she reminds herself. _He is alive, and so he will come_.

Although she is always the first to arrive, there is a chance…

No. _He will come_.

And she pretends to believe it.

A crisp wind parts the darkness, and seconds transform into minutes. The princess hugs herself, though she is not cold. She is ready to let go of bravery and let the tears flow when she feels the tell-tale tremors beneath her feet, hears the sound of horse-hooves pounding the earth.

The sacred fires, burning in tribute to Din, emit a circle of soft light. She watches the night, expectantly, and her heart leaps when the silhouette of horse and rider emerges at the edge of the darkness.

She waits, trembling.

She hears clinking and shuffling as he secures Epona to the old oak tree. And he would pause, she knew, to stroke the nose of her white stallion, whispering sweet words to the animals before he left them in the darkness. He is a guardian by nature.

Wide-eyed, she watches the shadows. The soft light catches the green of his tunic, and slowly, too slowly, the curtain of darkness falls away.

The hero meets her in the middle of the firelight and when at last they stand face to face, words are not an adequate greeting. He greets her with strong, sweeping arms, she greets him with a mouth like fire. His embrace steadies her trembling, slows her racing heart.

Fear escapes in her breath, and she inhales the scent of him; she inhales the scent of her kingdom, the thick smells of travel and death and conflict. She presses her mouth against his, hungrily, and gasps when the taste of power slides across her tongue. When at last she pulls away, she is breathless. Wordless.

Fearless.

The hero regards her with interest. "_I've missed you," _he says, not with his words, but with his eyes. With his words, he says, "hello, Princess."

She responds with a strained whisper, "I was beginning to worry about you." Her voice betrays her by shaking. The retreating adrenaline leaves her feeling as if she's been struck by lightning.

He lifts the cloak's hood away from her face. "Only death would keep me away," he says.

"Well…that's what I'm afraid of," she answers. "But you're here, and all is well."

They smile in unison, and onward they trek, princess and hero, deep into the heart of the forest. Farore's Grove is where they're headed. The journey is not long, but they must reach it before the sun rises full in the sky.

The Hero of Time laughs suddenly. "At least it's not raining," he says.

She looks to the sky. Streaks of blue-black, haphazardly speckled with stars, peek at her from beyond the canopy of the trees. A year ago to this night, a wild storm had ravaged Hyrule. The storm had unleashed torrents of rain around them, long into the morning.

And in the grove, they had laughed and made love to the rhythm of the thunder.

"No rain," she responds, smiling. Of all her memories, with and without him, that one is the most beautiful.

They follow the firelight until the path ends. Before they enter the grove, the hero kneels to the forest floor. "Your Highness," he says. He lowers his head in reverence.

"Thank you," she says, dropping to her knees before him. He is now twelve years older than the fairy boy she'd loved in the palace courtyard, but his face is still smooth and perfect beneath her hands. "But I haven't been your princess for many years."

"You _have_ been my princess for many years," he says, brushing his mouth over hers. "And someday, you will be my queen."

She cringes, draws away. The future is not a place she wants to visit tonight.

Life has altered them. They knew when they began how it would all end. But all the knowledge in the world couldn't dull the blade of reality. It is with these dark thoughts in mind that she draws him to her, guides his mouth to hers.

He hesitates, reading her like no one else could. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she murmurs.

He stares at her. When she won't meet his eyes, he gently lifts her face. "Time always gets in the way, doesn't it?"

At this, she has to laugh. That the Sage of Time and the Hero of Time should be lamenting over the future for once, instead of the past, compels her to smile. His playful sincerity reminds her why she loves him, but the solemnness quickly returns to her face. "I can't promis—"

"Neither can I," he says. And his expression says more than the words he leaves unspoken.

The wind howls as their lips meet. His passion is like a battle's rage, powerful and consuming; her passion is like a summer night, slow and feverish. His hands hesitate against her flesh, as they always do.

In keeping with the laws of true love, they have had only each other. In these long absences, their purity is renewed and they are like virgins again, thrilled and terrified all at once. (_If only he knew, he can do no wrong_.)

Under the shadows of the trees, they lose themselves. Princess and hero, humble servants of Hyrule and the world, fade away. And in their wake, lover and beloved pledge themselves to each other once again. Time, an old familiar friend, stands still as months divided are reconciled in moments.

Above them, the stars begin to fade into the approaching dawn. Intoxicated by each other, they notice only the blossoming of light around them. And in their hazy euphoria, the blissful indifference borne from the marriage of flesh, it seems though true love has ripped the darkness from the world.

When at last they are spent, they lay together in silence, watching the colorful sunrise and savoring the time they have left. There are no words left to exchange; all that could be said have been said. More talk will mean more promises, and promises, for these lovers, are doomed to be broken.

And when the sun is full, and dawn gives way to a warm, beautiful day, the lovers part. Their final embrace is, as always, bittersweet.

She watches him ride away, her heart aching. And Farore's chosen, the Hero of Time, becomes a memory once again. When he is gone, she lingers in the sunlight. But the day is dark without his presence, and so she returns to her throne.

Status and duty, the machinations of mankind, divide them always.

Except on the first day of autumn, when time stops and their hearts collide under the arms of the evergreen trees.


End file.
